


Only You

by morganadarkwings



Category: Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganadarkwings/pseuds/morganadarkwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is no secret, really, that Rebecca despises Max de Winter as much as he does her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You

It is no secret, really, that Rebecca despises Max de Winter as much as he does her. Jack Favell, too. It is only I whom she loves; always, unconditionally. She tells me as much, sometimes, when she is in one of her uncharacteristically affectionate moods.

“Oh Danny,” she says with something like a laugh, lying back on her bed, mussing the covers, with no care for the fact that, not fifteen minutes earlier, she had requested that I remake her bed. “Those dreadful, useless men, they all think that they own me. They think that I will give a part of my heart to them, isn’t it funny to think about?”

“Yes,” I agree, almost mechanically, for although I know she loves me, it still stings to watch her with them, laughing at their pathetic jokes, going to bed with them, when she professes to love me the most and yet I am not allowed so much as a simple touch. “It is funny.”

“Danny, dear Danny, do not look so morose! You know that you are my special favourite, that I adore you more than I have ever adored anyone. You are like a mother and a sister and a special friend, in spite of your age, all rolled into one. It could not be any more perfect!”

“My lady, I assure you I do not need reminding of my age.”

“Oh Danny,” she sighs, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow I embroidered especially for her. She is still childlike in so many ways, and yet it is a side of Rebecca that only I ever see. “You know that I do not have a problem with your age,” she continues, her voice slightly muffled, “in fact, it is quite my favourite thing about you.”

I cannot help but shake my head slightly in disbelief, turning to her ornate dressing table and adjusting the position of her hairbrush slightly, for she had left it an inch closer to the matching gilt comb than it should have been. “Rebecca, my lady, you are ridiculous. And I truly hope that my considerable age is not my only asset, for if it is, I fear I shall not be engaged as housekeeper here for much longer.”

“Nonsense!” she cries, sitting up suddenly. “Whatever do you mean, Danny, you do not mean that you are going to leave me, do you? Oh please, dear, dear Danny, do not ever leave me! I shall stop seeing Favell. I shall, I swear. But please, do not leave me!” There are tears on her cheeks already, and her desperate tirade of begging has left me with no chance to interrupt – not that I am in the habit of interrupting my lady, for it greatly irritates her when I do – and explain what I meant.

“Rebecca, my sweet.” I am at her side in a heartbeat, and she reaches out almost blindly for me, clinging to handfuls of my dress. “That is not what I meant at all.” She pulls me down into a sitting position on the bed, and fairly throws herself into my arms, whimpering quietly. “Rebecca, Rebecca,” I murmur, stroking tenderly at her hair. A few locks have come loose, hanging in their wild curls about her face, and I tuck them back as best I can. I shall have to fix her hair for her, a job I am not exactly adverse to.

“What I meant, my lady, was that I do not see why my age should be your favourite thing about me. I simply thought that I might have other acceptable features – such as my housekeeping abilities – which you might have chosen as your ‘favourite’ thing. But by that token, if my best attribute is my age, of which I am not fond, I must be severely lacking in my housekeeping abilities, and thus am not fit to run Manderley. I am sorry, my lady, I truly am. I suppose it was just something to say, to show you my displeasure at you mentioning my age; a joke, almost. But I see now that it was not amusing in the slightest, so I apologise most deeply, my lady.”

Her whimpering has subsided, but neither she nor I make any effort to move from our current position. I know that it is incredibly wrong of me, but sometimes I take a perverse pleasure in her being upset, for I know that she will inevitably seek out my embrace, and it is the perfect excuse for me to be near her, to touch her hair, to fit myself against her body, and sometimes even to drop the softest of kisses on the top of her head.

“I do not know what I would do without you, Danny,” she murmurs, and I feel her breath warm against the bodice of my dress.

“It is not something you will ever need to worry about, my sweet, I assure you.”

She tilts her head up and kisses me softly. It is the simplest of kisses, nothing more than a brush of her lips against my skin, but her kisses are always as childlike as she. I have even heard the insipid Max complaining that she kisses like a child – briefly, her lips pressed together – which caused me a great deal of laughter, for he has always struck me, and my lady has confirmed it, as being about as passionate as a doornail. Almost as though she is a thought-reader, she pulls back slightly, her cheeks flushed with the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“Danny,” she begins, the flush of her cheeks deepening in color, “do you remember the night when Max.. when he complained about how I kiss him?”

“Yes, my lady, I think I do,” I respond slowly, not wanting her to guess that I remember it more often that I should. In her eagerness to escape Max’s complaints, Rebecca had simply grabbed her robe and fled to my room, begging to sleep with me for the night. Suddenly – needlessly – embarrassed by having no nightdress to wear, she had begged for me to remove mine also, refusing to hear my arguments, and eventually we slept together with not a stitch of clothing to keep me from feeling her soft skin against mine. As much as I hated Max for upsetting my lady, I did silently admit that he had his uses.

“I fear it is because I do not have much experience of kissing and I become self-conscious when I am made to do it.”

“Do you feel embarrassed when you kiss me, my lady?” I ask, sure that she will be able to hear my heart beating furiously, that she will realise what I am trying to do and push me away in disgust.

“No, I do not, I trust you with my life, my dear Danny, but the way I kiss you is quite different from the way I ought to kiss him.”

“That is true, my sweet, but if you trust me, then-” I feel my own face, quite stupidly, flushing in embarrassment, and lean close, breathing in her ear what I wish to say.

“Yes,” she murmurs softly, “I think that would be a suitable idea.” She toys nervously with a lock of hair, seeming flustered, until I take her pale hand in mine, the gesture calming her the way it always does.

“I am no expert, but.. if you would allow me to take control for a moment my lady...” Almost as nervous as my Rebecca, I gently push her back by her shoulders until she is leaning against her pillows, and move slightly closer until I am kneeling in front of her. My leg rests companionably between hers, and she reaches forward, resting her hands on the sides of my face. She allows her lips to meet mine, brushing tenderly but lightly, and as she pulls back, I place a hand on the back of her head, stopping her from moving away, and press my lips against hers with a little more pressure. When the tiniest gasp escapes her, I kiss her again, more firmly, and I am surprised to feel her lips part slightly, capturing mine.

“Was that better, Danny?” she asks when she pulls back, and I have to fight hard to stop her from noticing that I am somewhat breathless.

“Yes, my lady, much better.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself to say what I want to. “But maybe it would be prudent if you were to practice with me a little more, until you are sure that you know exactly what you are doing.”

“Of course, Danny, of course,” she nods. “You are such a dear friend to help me like this.”

“You know I would do anything for you, my lady,” I murmur, my lips finding hers again, and I fancy I feel her fingers press a little harder where she still cups my face, when my tongue brushes just slightly against her lower lip.

“Danny,” she breathes, and she trails her fingers, so lightly that at first I barely notice, down the side of my face, before she rests them, softer than a whisper, on the back of my neck. Her lips part the slightest amount, her tongue brushing against my lip in exactly the same way that mine brushed against hers, and she exerts a slight pressure on the back of my neck, seemingly encouraging me to lean in closer to her. “Oh Danny,” she whispers before our lips meet again, “I do not want to kiss him ever again. I want to kiss you, and only you.”


End file.
